The Mistletoe
by eidheann
Summary: A bit of damned magical mistletoe threatens Draco with a very interesting holiday. / Written for the 2014 HD Owlpost Fest


**Title:** The Mistletoe  
**Gift for:** nenne  
**Summary:** A bit of damned magical mistletoe threatens Draco with a very interesting holiday.  
**Word Count:** 1900  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Contains:** relatively tame smut, Draco has a potty-mouth, implied voyeurism

* * *

It started with the mistletoe. The damned enchanted mistletoe had been following him around for nearly a week, sparkling and jingling faintly with the sound of sleigh bells, and no amount of hexing had made it disappear. He thought at first that it was a joke; that hitting the former Death Eater with a reminder that no one would _willingly_ kiss him was all fun and games.

But the damned thing wouldn't go away. Not even McGonagall, no matter how pinched her face got, could make the bloody thing leave. The best they'd gotten was Flitwick had somehow managed to charm it to wait in the doorway of the classrooms, giving Draco a moment to breathe and not disrupting the learning environment of the other students.

It waited on him, though. Always there; in the showers, above his bed, at meals.

And at first people seemed to think it was funny. The Weasel's face had turned the same color as his hair, laughing. Granger had frowned at it, and him, doubtless thinking she'd succeed where the Professors had failed and get rid of the blasted thing entirely. Potter hadn't looked at him at all.

It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. He didn't _want_ to fight Potter anymore, even if he could with his wand bound up with so many restrictions he couldn't even cast a _Lubricus_ in his bed at night.

But being avoided by Potter, that was strange. Almost as strange as the _bloody fucking mistletoe_.

It was so inconsistent. It had pulled first Pansy, then later Theo, in and stuck them to Draco until they'd kissed. Likewise with MacMillan, Bones, both Patils, and oddly, Engelbright the new Defense instructor.

None of those kisses had made the mistletoe budge; it only left Draco feeling like more of a leper as everyone gave him a wide berth. Which was pointless as the pull ignored distance. He sat not two feet from Zabini during meals, but it had pulled Theo across half the Library.

Draco sighed and nudged his potatoes across his plate. The Hogwarts Express had left that morning, taking most of the students back home to their families, and everyone remaining was seated at a single long table with the staff. It was a small group. Of the returning eighth years, only Potter and Bones joined him. Other than Lovegood and a pair of third year Slytherins, everyone else was too young for him to know.

It was a relief and maddeningly depressing at once. Two weeks of rattling around the empty castle would make the fact he was being actively avoided easier to ignore. But it also meant two weeks with the thrice-damned mistletoe.

His appetite gone, Draco made his way from the Great Hall.

.hpdmhpdm.

Three days and an awkward snog with Lovegood later, Draco was feeling ready to punch someone on principle. It was purely by chance that someone happened to be Potter.

He'd been exiting the library when he felt the tell-tale tug of the mistletoe, and had watched as Potter had approached, feet literally dragging as he'd attempted to brace himself. Draco's fist was flying toward Potter's face before he'd even registered the punch. He was so tired of being ignored and avoided, and the fact that Potter obviously wanted so little to do with him was suddenly too much.

The mistletoe had other ideas, however, and before Draco's fist could land, he was spun about, crashing into Potter and leaving them sprawled in a tangle of limbs in the doorway of the library.

He stared at Potter a moment, lying breathless and surprised beneath him. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide and Draco wanted to kiss him. Draco wanted to kiss him even though this was _so not_ how he'd wanted to do it, what with Potter dragged to him kicking and screaming by the mistletoe.

But Potter was there, and Draco knew the mistletoe wouldn't let them go until it'd had its way. He leaned down, letting his lips brush gently against Potter's surprised ones. Potter made a noise, impossible to judge if it was shock or surprise, though what he expected Draco to do with the mistletoe jangling madly above him, he had no idea...

But then Potter's hand was around his neck, and he was pulling Draco's head down, and Draco rather thought he was the one with the surprised expression. But that didn't matter because Potter was kissing him. Potter was kissing him, and the mistletoe was strangely silent.

He couldn't think about that, though. Potter's lips were soft as they moved against his, and he reached down to wind his fingers into Potter's hair. He wondered a moment if he was dreaming, or if the mistletoe had finally gone crazy and had upped the potency of its snogging powers. But he pushed the thought aside, Potter was underneath him, and he could feel the panting of his breath against his cheek, and the rise and fall of his chest and Potter's hands were sliding down his back and...

And Potter was squeezing his arse. Merlin, but it felt amazing, Potter's lips against his, his hand squeezing Draco's arse. Draco refused to think about the noise he made in response, though Potter apparently liked it because his hand resettled and began squeezing almost in time with his heartbeat and Potter's tongue was flicking against his lips.

He wouldn't admit it, but he rather melted in response.

At that, Potter was suddenly everywhere. His tongue took up residence inside Draco's mouth, one hand twined in his hair, the other on his arse, and Draco found himself rocking in response.

It was a good decision, either way. Regardless of whether it was the mistletoe or not, Potter was very obviously hardening beneath him, and he could feel the bulge of Potter's cock through their trousers, and it lined up so very nicely against his.

He spared a moment to think about their location; just outside the doors to the Library, where anyone could stumble upon them at any moment. They were probably breaking a dozen school rules. There were at least that many he'd learned in his time as Prefect against this sort of... fraternizing.

The fact that they were Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter likely added several for good measure. But all Draco could think about was how much he hoped no one needed to visit the library. Not when he had a ready and willing Harry Potter rocking into him. Kissing him, hands wandering with more enthusiasm than he'd ever dared hope.

It was amazing how easy it was. How little effort it required to ignore the cold hardness of the floor against his knees in favor of the warm hardness of Harry. He didn't want to think of the problems that would doubtless come when the spell of the mistletoe ended, so he simply didn't. They rocked and kissed and he could feel his legs begin to tremble with the advent of his release.

Coming in his pants was only positive when compared to not having an orgasm at all. When he opened his eyes, lungs dragging in a deep breath, it was to meet Potter's gaze, locked on him with an expression of wonder. Then Potter rocked into him again, and Draco realized that Potter had watched him. That Potter's expression was for watching Draco come, on his lap, in his pants.

It was a sensation he refused to define. Instead he leaned in and kissed Potter hard, pulling far enough away to get away from the friction against his too-sensitive cock, and he reached down and palmed Potter's cock through his trousers, rubbing firmly.

Potter's head snapped back, away from Draco's mouth, and thudded into the flags of the stone beneath him. Draco could tell he was close, not just because of his tension, but by the transported expression on his face. And in that moment, there was nothing Draco wanted more than to watch, to see Potter like this again and again and again.

Then with an arch and a gasp, he came. Draco could feel the twitching pulse of Potter's cock against his palm, and Draco quickly revised his earlier impression. This was how he wanted to see Potter; sated, eyes tense but jaw relaxed. The moment where he'd just come, and come for Draco.

"It's about time you two finally did it." Lovegood's voice carried across the hall, instantly bursting the mood. Potter's expression shuttered, and he flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the earlier flush of arousal. Draco pulled his own back as if burnt, and he scrambled off Potter's lap.

"Oh don't start that. You've been on the brink of shagging each other silly for ages." Lovegood stared down at them both, her head tilted slightly. "It was only a matter of time and circumstance."

"It was the mistletoe," Draco knew his protest was feeble, but he hated how vulnerable he felt right now. It _wasn't_ the mistletoe, not for him, but Potter's approach had made it all too clear where his thoughts stood. "It just... did something."

"Don't be silly. It disappeared when you finally kissed Harry."

His head shot up quickly enough that his neck gave a sharp twinge, and sure enough the fucking mistletoe was gone.

"Wait a minute." Potter's voice drew his attention back to where he was now sitting on the flagstone. "What do you mean _'finally'_?"

"Well I had to be a bit firmer with the nudging. You two were driving everyone around you batty what with your mooning over each other all the time. Once you'd kissed, you managed to sort everything else out nicely."

"Wh—It was _you_?" Draco sputtered. "But the Professors..."

"Oh, I had help. The Nargles were really quiet helpful with keeping the mistletoe following you."

"What? But I kissed you!"

"Mmm. Harry really hated seeing that. It's when I realized he wasn't going to make a move on his own."

"But..."

"Mal—Draco... don't." Potter's face was still red, but his lips had turned up in a small smile.

"There now. I'm sure you two have some things to work out. One good thing about holidays is that the Prefect's Bath is open so you can both clean up and work on them. And I'm sure the elves will be willing to feed you if you miss dinner."

Once she'd wandered back down the hallway, Potter turned to him. "So, Prefect's Bath?"

His stomach gave a flip, but he made some effort to distance himself. Just in case. "Depends on whether she's there watching us."

Potter's eyebrows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"If she used the mistletoe to drag you over to me, and approached us immediately after our rather spectacular orgasms, do you think she didn't watch us in the interim?"

Potter grimaced. "I think I hate you right now, Malfoy."

"Same." But he was lying, and he knew Potter knew it. Instead, he let the smile out. "Bath?"

Potter laughed, but pushed himself up off the floor, grimacing as he adjusted himself. "Yes. We have things to work out, you know."

"Do tell..."

And Potter's grin spread like sunshine. "Oh, I will. I will."


End file.
